About Me

Saturday, 6 June 2015

Past Times Revisited

This is a retrospective, one of my first posts at the beginning of
2009. How little changes.

Digging For Victory

The day the bank bailouts broke out, the missus said to me, “So what are
you going to do to save the economy?”
“It isn’t up to me!” I said, “What can I do about it in any case?” “Well,” she said “you can make a start, and
my hair needs cutting.”

After we cut each other’s hair, normally free, gratis, and for
nothing, this time we exchanged cheques for £1000 each. “There,” she said, “that’s a nice boost for
the GDP” “But what do we do next?” I
asked, and she had an answer for that, well she always does have an answer.

So we go down to at Thresher and Porbeagle Financial Services,
Cookiecutter House and meet a gent’ called Fred Sands. Nice chap, the sort of Scottish burr in the
voice you like to hear on the customer services help lines telling you there is
nothing they can do to help, who makes us an offer we could not refuse.

They had only just set up after he had left his old firm to improve his
prospects. Grabbing the cheques from our
hands, he told us he could immediately lend us up to £100,000 to spend as we
wanted, or to take part in a wonderful investment deal that had only turned up
on his laptop that very morning, limited offer, closing in half an hour, so we
had to make up our minds quick.

He wrote us a cheque on the spot for the £100,000, gave to us, and then
snatched it back, saying it was now an asset and collateral for buying £5
million pounds worth of rented garages in Arizona, Beijing, and Moscow, and
these would become the assets for investing in a lot of Hedge Funds, who would
do a lot of other lending.

Because all the loans were assets, and not what my father told me, income
was guaranteed at fifteen per cent, and the whole value would grow at least
thirty per cent a year, so we could soon have our villa, yachts and all the
rest, and even get invited to a Paris
fashion show.

I tried to tell the missus that I was happy with our caravan at Bognor,
but she would not listen, all it would cost us she said was trivial money,
small change, for all the administrative fees and bonuses, and I should be
grateful for everything.

Then she went into the back room with Fred and came out smiling in a way
I hadn’t seen since she was a part time barmaid at “The Dragon’s Head”.

So we have now “kick started” the economy and Fred says with luck I
could get a knighthood and the missus will then become a lady, at last. “It will all be worth it,” she said, “and
Fred even gave me a tenner, for the service economy he called it.”

When I told my neighbour, Jim, he gave me a funny look, asked for his
lawnmower back, and told me not to bother with Christmas Cards this year as he
was a bit short.